Vices and Weaknesses
by liviaintheskyy
Summary: Effie takes care of Haymitch during a hangover and gets a bit annoyed with his bitterness. Lots of drama. Post-MJ.


Vices and Weaknesses

I opened the door, staring for a moment at the mess waiting for me. Fortunately, this time there was no puke on the carpet, just some empty bottles around the couch and a single one shattered on the floor. Looks like someone got angry.

I crossed the living room, ignoring a snoring Haymitch lying on the sofa and opening the heavy curtains, letting the sunlight get its way through the house. Since I've been… kidnapped by the Center of Protection and Security of Capitol and stayed for long time in a closed and dark cell, I missed the sunlight and kept thinking that I could never see it again. I was afraid. After I was released, Peeta invited me to live with him in District 12, since he was feeling lonely and my house at the Capitol had been exploded. The district has been reconstructed, but there was few people living there. Every morning Peeta would spend with Katniss – except the few ones he'd been disturbed with the false memories, I'd go in his place – taking her cookies, bread, cake or anything else he'd baked for her and be sure she would eat enough. He'd talk to her about everything, she was getting better, he told me, because one day or another, she started to hum a song, and sometimes she would murmur something in reaction of what he said. And I'd spent my day inside the room settled for me, but sometimes I'd get claustrophobic and leave. At least once a week, I'd clean Haymitch's house. It was constantly a mess, and was an excuse to check if he was at least alive.

As I picked the bottles and threw them on the trashcan, Haymitch started to wake up, groaning something about his headaches and the open window.

- Oh, good morning Effie, what a pleasure having you here in such early hour! – He said ironically as soon as he noticed me. I just stared at him and replied the nicest good morning I could. I searched for an aspirin and a glass of water and then gave it to him.

- This is what all that drinking does to you. – I said as he took the medicine. He remained in silence, so I continued. – You should just… stop drinking.

- I should s- he started but stopped for a loud and sarcastic laugh – Sweetheart, you don't simply ask Haymitch Abernathy to stop drinking.

- Well, if you say so. I'm sorry for worrying. – I said in a kind of angry way. Why he had to be so hard to deal with. You can be either mean or nice with him, he'd just answer heavily ironic. It was THIS hard to give a chance for someone? To act politely and gratefully sometimes?

I shook my head, leaving behind the thoughts and headed up to the kitchen, focusing in my tasks. Just put on some rubber gloves and started to do the great amount of dishes.

Time passed and every single dish was clean, so I decided to pick the dirty clothes that were all over the house.  
- If you're going to spend the whole day walking from side to side of my house, could you at least take off your noisy shoes? – He said when I was just reaching the wrinkled piece of cloth in the corridor.

- Well, you don't simply ask Effie Trinket to take off her heels. – I answered sarcastically.

- The big difference is: I only get better with alcohol, and I don't see why all of that Capitol stuff would do you any good. – He said, pointing to my bright teal wig. When my house was… erased, lots of my clothes were too, but luckly, due to the games, I had a lot of them packed in the building I was staying then. It wasn't anough and I borrowed some of the clothes Katniss had won – she'd only wear those damn t-shirts everyday anyway. So I would still wear my clothes like before. I wasn't so silly, I wasn't so hollow anymore, but I still needed them.

- The alcohol gives you hangover, makes you look like an idiot, kills your brain cells… I don't see any good thing. And the "Capitol Stuff" makes me look presentable to people.

- Presentable? It only makes you look like an alien.

- AN ALIEN? – I yelled angrily – So that's what you think of me? – I dropped all of the clothes on the ground and was about to leave when a hand grabbed my arm.

- Effie. – His voice said my name in a strangely calm way – Come back. – I turned around to him, his face changed so fast from the ironic asshole to a serious one. – I- I'm sorry, Effie.

I was ready for anything but this. I was ready for any curse, any joke, any bad thing he'd say, but I wasn't ready for an apology. I was still mad for the things he'd said, but I didn't leave like I intended. I just took the clothes on the floor and kept doing my job like nothing has happened. I could see he went to the bathroom, washed his face and sat on the couch, remaining in silent for some time. As I got rid of the dirty clothes, he just turned to me and started talking.

- The truth is that you never were the problem. The problem was what you represented for me. The Capitol was responsible for the death of the few people I ever cared about. It was who sent me to the games, is why I never could let myself get attached to anyone again, and is why I have to drink. I drink so is easy to live, so I can forget all I've seen and all I've been through for a while. And because you were the closest Capitol citizen to me, and because it was easier, I blamed you. – I sat on the couch next to him, not sure what to think. – But it was never your fault. If it weren't' you, they'd send another person to pick the names. You were just another victim, Effie. They make you think all of that was okay, normal. You grew up with that, as the Games were a wonderful show. And they make you believe you only look good when you wear that creepy stuff.

His hand reached to take off my wig. He'd seen me without it before, but he was drunk and wouldn't remember, so I just screamed with him, he left and I didn't care. But now, I was only feeling exposed, I didn't want him, or anyone, to see me like that. I have always had the assuredness to choose how people would see me, but the way I truly am, beneath every layer of color, I can't control, every curl on my hair, its color, and the freckles in my nose... And they seem awful to me, so I was scared. But I didn't stop him. Then I felt my hair falling through my neck and shoulders.

- I like it. – He says, touching a wavy blonde strand, a light smile plying on his lips.

- You know, when I was just a kid, I didn't had to wear them. My mom died when I was only a baby and my dad knew nothing about fashion. But as soon as I got into high school, my friend was treated like trash because of her lack of style, and I didn't want that. My father would buy everything I asked, so I ended up being the coolest girl in school. I was scared, and then I liked the feeling of being loved. Only now I see what I lost. She was a great friend. But I've never told anyone. I was so insecure, even after I grew up, I would look myself in the mirror without anything and be frightened but the possibility of anyone seeing me like that and bully me. I would be the new joke. "Effie Trinket has a weird nose and freckles" They'd say. "I'll never talk to her again!". – And the tears were already running through my cheeks.

Haymitch pulled his long sleeve to wipe them of my face, along with the colorful shadows and then all the make up in my face.

- If you had lived here, you wouldn't need all of this to be pretty. You are the prettiest thing, darling. But only make a clown of yourself with such things. – I giggled at his last sentence, my tears were now gone.

His fingers were still holding my face and even though my experience with guys wasn't much – a seven-years relationship to discover he was the gayest guy in college kind of wasted my time -, I knew where this were leading to, and I wasn't sure if I could stop him.

I was just a young girl, about 10 years old, when Haymitch won the second Quarter Quell, and like many girls I knew back then, I had this crush on him. Time passed and the crush was gone, till the day I got to work with him. I had these flashbacks sometimes, seeing this glimpse of the young handsome boy I used to see on television. And even though he acted like a drunk jerk most of the time, there were this few moments, when hope of bringing to his district a living kid hit him, or when he could forget his sorrow for a bit and have some fun, this moments had me wondering who was beneath the jerk. Because in these moments, I could see the hope myself. And whoever it was, I wanted to meet him. I didn't admit it to anyone, of course. But now was different. And the last weeks after the rebellion, after the cruelty was gone, he was almost a happy gentleman. But he had these memories of his family and the loved ones that would never come back, and drink the pain away.

And now I was seeing in his eyes the same thing I used to see when there was hope. Until he closed them and touched his lips on mine. I could feel my heart racing as the kiss went deeper and his hands reached my waist. My hands did nothing but keep twirling his hair in my fingers. His lips tasted vodka, but still, his kiss was sweet as sugar. When it ended, I put my head on his shoulders, my hands holding tight his white messy shirt.

I turned my head so I could see his face, he was smiling and his eyes were staring right into mine. It was the first time I really noticed his eyes. They had this soft gray color and really deep expression. He pulled my hair back and kissed my forehead.

- I like your eyes. – I said numbly – If I'd seen them before the way I'm seeing now, I would have kissed you long time ago.

- And if I knew it was this easy to get a kiss from your lips, I'd make you see them right after I met you. – He said playfully.

- I thought you didn't… like me.

- Well, not much, but it doesn't mean I didn't want to kiss you.

- You did? – I could feel my cheeks blushing.

- Well, yeah, all the time, mostly when you were wearing those tight corsets. – His smile was rather… provocative. My face was burning now. – Oh how cute, you're embarrassed. – His hand cupped my face and his lips met mine once again. And then again, and again, until we could no longer distinguish one kiss from the other one.

Eventually I had to leave; I had promised Peeta I would help him decorate the cupcakes he's been preparing to Katniss. But Peeta invited me and Haymitch to go with him, we'd make this awkward picnic in the middle of Katniss living room, with cupcakes, strawberry juice and some lots of stuff he'd been baking. And as he put the pink frosting in my nose saying "that will match your dress, sweetheart" I realized that I'd no longer need my wigs, because the only one I could care for liked me better without any of it. And I'd be the one who put his bottles away and offer a shoulder when he needs one. And that's how we would live, taking care of each other, in our own way.


End file.
